


Disguise

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Interludes [5]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Inline with canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Kurapika tips his chin up to meet Leorio’s gaze there’s something wrong with his eyes." Interlude set before episode 56.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disguise

It takes Leorio longer than it should to realize what the difference is. There have been subtle changes, of course -- more tension in the voice on the other end of the phone, a shift in the way Kurapika stands when Leorio actually  _sees_  the blond again, but it’s not until they’re alone and they have a moment to breathe that he really sees it.

It helps that he’s so close. He doesn’t  _have_  to be, not really, and a moment to breathe is nothing like the same as enough time to actually  _do_  anything, but Kurapika doesn’t protest when Leorio steps in a few inches closer than he has to be to help straighten the long pale wig on the other’s head. He doesn’t respond either, though, and the stillness from the other pulls Leorio’s attention down and into sharper focus than he usually exhibits.

“You nervous?” he asks, straightening a lock of hair so it falls down Kurapika’s back instead of in front of his face. His fingers brush against skin and it’s like an electric shock, heat jumping from the blond’s body straight to his.

“No,” Kurapika says, and his voice is odd and flat, and when he tips his chin up to meet Leorio’s gaze there’s something wrong with his eyes. It’s not just the dark contacts, although those are wrong too, they turn the light of Kurapika’s eyes dark and shadowy. But it’s more than that, a flat edge to the other’s gaze, a promise of aggression visible underneath everything else even though it’s not directed at Leorio. It’s like Kurapika’s not seeing him, not really, like he’s looking straight through the taller man and seeing the Troupe just behind him.

“Kurapika,” Leorio starts, but the blond still doesn’t focus on him, although his face is turned upwards. “Will you...be okay?”

He means it as more than just surviving the night, although the possibility of losing Kurapika when he’s barely got him back is too real to ignore. But that wall in the other’s eyes hold steady and Leorio isn’t surprised when Kurapika’s mouth curves into a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes and the other says, “Of course.”

Leorio reaches out to pull the unfamiliar weight of pale hair back over Kurapika’s shoulders, smooths the strands into a natural appearance. His thumb brushes Kurapika’s neck, and this close he doesn’t miss the way Kurapika’s eyelashes flutter in spite of the tension winding agonizingly tight in his shoulders and neck, and Leorio bends down without thinking to catch Kurapika’s mouth with his.

The blond takes a startled inhale and for a horrible moment Leorio thinks he’s going to push him away. But when his hands come up they go around Leorio’s shoulders, and when Kurapika moves he arches in towards the other instead of away, and when he parts his lips he tastes warm and rich and achingly familiar. Leorio sighs into his mouth, relief and pleasure pouring through him in equal parts, and Kurapika makes a sound that’s a little bit of a whimper and a little bit of a moan, and Leorio forgets for a moment that there is anything but the blond against him. His hand curls around Kurapika’s neck, his thumb slides up to slide through the texture of the other’s actual hair under the weight of the wig, and his other comes down against the back of the black jacket Kurapika’s got on. Kurapika for his part arches in until the whole line of his body is pressed up against Leorio’s, until his leg is angled between the other man’s, and his hands are pulling Leorio down as if to make up for the difference in their height by sheer force. Leorio slide the hand against Kurapika’s back down, over the angle of his back and down to the curve of his ass through tight-fitting pants, and Kurapika whines and rocks forward and  _remembers_. Leorio can feel the realization hit in the way the blond goes rigid again instead of liquid-hot and the way Kurapika’s mouth goes still against his. They both pull back at the same time, though neither goes far enough to escape the heat of the other’s breath against skin.

“I --” Kurapika starts, and Leorio starts talking at the same time.

“I missed you. Sorry. I know we can’t --”

“Don’t apologize,” Kurapika cuts him off, and Leorio can hear the way his breath catches on too-fast breathing. “Don’t. I  _want_  to, I’ve wanted to since I saw --” He stops himself this time, coming forward to press another desperate kiss against Leorio’s mouth, and Leorio realizes that neither of them have moved their hands. “Just a little longer.” He takes a breath, and when his fingers relax Leorio knows he’s determined. “I need to stay focused.”

“Yeah,” Leorio says, because what else is he supposed to say? He knows how important this is, after all. It’s still very hard to move his hand up to the more neutral curve of Kurapika’s hip, especially with the way Kurapika hisses an inhale as he shifts. The blond blinks and nearly comes in for another kiss before he pulls away, turning his head before Leorio can see what his eyes look like now.

Leorio has to start all over again with the wig, pulling the tangled strands free until they fall in a single silver sheet down Kurapika’s back. Neither of them speaks again until Kurapika is settling a hat over the whole thing, eyeing himself in the mirror before he nods and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” Leorio says, and Kurapika stops instantly, turning back towards the other man like Leorio is pulling his gaze by force.

Leorio is more careful this time, moves slowly so as not to dislodge the hat or ruffle Kurapika’s hair or wrinkle his clothes. But Kurapika tips his head up and parts his lips expectantly even before Leorio reaches for him, and the softness of his lips and the brief feel of his tongue skimming over Leorio’s is just as recognizable as it was, and when Leorio pulls away Kurapika is looking at him, actually focused on his face for just a moment, and there’s no violence in his eyes at all.

It’s a danger, Leorio knows. Kurapika needs to focus on the task at hand if he’s going to survive, and that lets the taller man pull a smile onto his face as he offers Kurapika the oversized sunglasses that make up the last of the costume. The blond’s eyes are shadowed even before he puts them on, dark with ghosts and revenge, but for a moment there he was Leorio’s again, alive instead of just driven, and he will be again. Leorio promises that to himself, to the back of Kurapika’s narrow shoulders in his black jacket, to the memory of the way their mouths feel together. They will survive -- they  _all_  will survive -- and Kurapika’s smile will reach his eyes again.


End file.
